The Ghost of You
by lightningreveals
Summary: AU/AH. Rose, an unhappy teen, is taken to the ER with appendicitis, resulting in surgery and a three-day hospital stay. Unluckily for her, the Russian surgeon that operated on her chooses to discuss some scars he discovered in the surgery, a secret she never wished to share with anyone. Trigger warning for self-harm mental health issues.
1. Chapter 1

**PSA: please don't judge the entire fic just off this chapter! The next chapters are so much better, I swear. Please give them a read before you forget this fic for the rest of your life.**

* * *

 **Chapter 1**

One and a half days.

One and a half days I laid as still as I could on my bed, for even the slightest movement made my stomach ache in the most uncomfortable way I could ever imagine. I tried filling in time watching some good ol' TV on my laptop, but nothing distracted me from the constant pain that plagued me.

At first I thought it was just because I had barely eaten for days. I stumbled out of bed and forced some toast down my throat, but it didn't help in the slightest. So I just decided to get through the day and sleep it off, just like any other pain. Unlike any other pain, however, it didn't just get better from a good night's rest.

And that would be how I ended up here, at the Royal Crescent Hospital in Montana.

I spent 5 hours waiting on a bed in the Emergency Room, with an IV drip stuck in the crook of my elbow and wasting every ounce of my phone's battery life. As if I weren't already miserable enough.

After ultrasounds and blood tests, they eventually established that I had appendicitis. My appendix wasn't so swollen that it would explode, but it would still be worthwhile to remove it to prevent future incidents. The consent forms were signed, and I was booked in for a 7:20PM appendectomy, performed by some Dr Belikov.

By 7:10, I was dressed in my hospital gown and ready for surgery. My earrings were removed, and my hair was tied up to keep it tamed. I was wheeled from the C block through to the operating room, passing bland cream walls that held to interest to me.

The ceiling of the OR was tiled. Large tiles—more than 46 of them, to be exact. I knew because I had nothing else to focus on while waiting. The anaesthesiologist entered and introduced himself, before connecting my IV to another fancy drug. I counted backwards from 10, like I was instructed, but I barely got to 4 before the drugs reached my system and I dozed into unconsciousness.

* * *

Waking up from the drugs was awful. I was dazing in and out of consciousness for hours, struggling to keep me eyes open. I tried so hard. I just wanted to hold my eyes open on my own, or say something, but my eyes betrayed my instructions and my mouth never formed the words. No matter how hard I wished, the instructions from my brain travelled nowhere.

I was trapped, and it scared me beyond ends. It's not that I wanted necessarily to be specifically awake, or even asleep for that matter—God knows exactly which I'd prefer in normal circumstances. It's just that it was so unstable, constantly drifting in and out of consciousness. I didn't care which side I was on, I just wanted to be on one or the other. I just wanted certainty.

In the times that my eyes were open, I saw some things. I remember seeing my dad, resting on the regulation plastic chair by my bedside. I even remember being awake long enough to catch an entire scene, with the nurses fetching extra blankets for him, since the room was so cold.

He looked so ragged. I knew he was worried, and he definitely needed sleep. I tried to tell him that, as well, but it just didn't work. I just wanted him to be comfortable, and calm; that was all I'd ever wanted for him.

I saw some other stuff as well. There were nurses, coming in to monitor me every so often. They were taking my vitals, and I remember trying to help them, but I just couldn't—they had to lift my arm physically to check my blood pressure, and I felt so awful for not being able to function on my own.

I also remember someone else coming into my room. He wasn't in hospital scrubs, so he wasn't a nurse. Maybe a student? Or maybe he was the surgeon. The Dr Belikov that had removed a useless 3-inch piece of fat from my insides.

Whoever he was, he was taller than any man I'd ever met. I couldn't see his face from my angle, though I could see his hair. It was the same shade as mine, but it hung straight and was cut off at the shoulders. Not the sort that I would've expected from any professional surgeon. Not that I didn't like it or anything.

He sat down, and I could feel the weight of his gaze on me. It felt heavy, but in my daze, I couldn't understand why. I yearned to see his own face, for reasons I didn't understand, but I could feel myself drifting out again. I was blinking to hold my focus, but it didn't work. It was infuriating, not being able to control myself.

He was all my sedated mind could think about, however jumbled my thoughts were, and I finally drifted back into the bliss of unconsciousness.

* * *

 **I'm sorry it's so incredibly short, and truly not the best writing in the first place, but I've been on hiatus for a long time. To be specific, I haven't written any VA fics for about 2 years. Please just stick with me on this and leave me some feedback, I would really appreciate it. It'll definitely be better quality and more interesting next chapter, considering that'll have the section that was the catalyst for this fic. And, you know, an actual plot and dialogue. Consider this chapter the prologue.**

 **Anyway, until then, stay safe and be happy** **J**


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 2

The final time I woke up from my anaesthesia daze, it was to an empty room. I made an attempt to roll over on my side, but was shocked by a sharp pain in my shoulders. It anchored me back down, but I was determined to see out of the window. The stark whiteness of the room was too overwhelming for me, and I felt that perhaps a glance into the outside world would calm me.

After a few minutes of inch-by-inch shifting and sharp breathing, I finally managed to roll on my side and get into a comfortable position. I raised my head, and looked straight out into… A brick wall. _Typical._ The wall was even more depressing than the rest of this room's interior, so I let myself fall back onto my back with a squeak of bedsprings and a defeated sigh.

I wondered where my dad went. The blankets on the chair he'd been resting on were folded to perfect creases, which was absolutely classic Abe. Three guesses where I received my perfectionist gene from. He'd been here all night, so it was selfish of me to assume that he wouldn't need some food and a good scrub-down, but I'd still hoped he'd be there when I woke up.

Dad was one of the best people I'd ever known. He was very mature and sophisticated, but his cheeky humour and outlandish style made him so incredibly original. He was always wearing some sort of scarf, suitor tie with a crazy colour or pattern, yet his manner still commanded respect from everyone he met.

He was the head of a large banking company, so he needed to have that air about him. He always taught me to be accepting of everyone, to not waste my intelligence, and to be grateful for my bountiful opportunities in life. I'd never say we were particularly close—I had a tendency to isolate myself from everyone—but he was a genuinely great human being. He was the best parent I could have ever asked for, and more. Which I suppose made up for my mum's apathetic view towards me.

My mum was a flat out, straight up, horrible parent. She didn't even want me in the first place. She left my dad and I sometime after my first birthday and ocean-hopped to the next continent over. She'd been offered a job in Ireland, and it was as if she couldn't get away from us fast enough. I couldn't care less about her these days since she'd barely ever contacted me, but it still stung a bit. Just the fact that I wasn't enough for her.

Even though I loathed her to my core, that very fact constantly reminded me that I'd never be enough for anyone.

I exhaled, trying to keep my mind occupied. My mind was very weird—some days there would be so many thoughts that I would never be able to shut it up, and other days it would be a completely blank slate. Today was one of those former days.

I tried looking around the room for something to distract myself with, when my eyes landed on a piece of notepaper on my bedside table. I couldn't make out any words from my angle, but I could certainly recognise my dad's distinctive loopy cursive. For what seemed to be the sixtieth time since I'd woken up, I sighed, readying myself for the aching muscles that would scream as I moved. I propped myself up with my right elbow on the bed, and with my other hand, I reached over to grab the notepaper. It was just out of my reach, but I extended my muscles taught, and just grasped the paper before collapsing back on the bed.

 _Rose,  
Just gone to grab some coffee and a shower.  
Hope you're feeling better._

What a typical note from him. Short and to the point, no sign-off, no pointless words. He was never the sort of man who would waste oxygen, or ink, in saying words that didn't hold any meaning. Nevertheless, the case of the missing father was solved.

Another pulse of pain from my shoulders brought up another mystery. Was this normal? My shoulders were no-where near my appendix. Maybe I'd contracted an infection, and I was going to die as one of those 0.02% chance risk victims. Scratch that, of course I was going to be one of those people. If this was normal, why wouldn't they have warned me about it already? Oh well. At least if I contracted a life-threatening infection and died, I wouldn't have to finish high school. Wouldn't that be a shame.

It was long before my arms, which had been resting on my stomach, grew restless and uncomfortable. I untangled them and let them float down my sides. My regulation hospital nightgown had become tangled up with the bedsheets as I slept, and I paused to use this opportunity to adjust it and straighten it up. As I pulled the bleached cotton back down to where it originally rested, my hands drifted over something that in my intense physical pain, I hadn't even given any thought to.

Of course. Just my luck. I hadn't even thought about my scars until just now, and places like hospitals, where they could inspect your body as often as they deemed necessary, were where you had to be most careful.

How could I have been so dumb? One tiny inflamed organ and everything I'd worked for years to cover has gone out the window. I swear, I shouldn't even be allowed to function properly.

And now they're going to know. Of course they'll only know what they've seen and not what they've heard, but it still counts. On the other hand, I only had surgery. Maybe surgeons don't even care about this stuff. And even if they did, what makes it their problem? Surely they're not allowed to discuss with me anything I refuse to. Doctor-patient confidentiality and all.

I kept mulling this over and over in my head, tossing and turning this information and imagining every possible horrible outcome. My body tensed as it processed this scenario; one of my greatest fears projecting into reality. I stared blankly at the ceiling, refusing to move or look anywhere else in fear of breaking my current state of ignorance. Everything in my body screamed while I just laid there, trying not to breathe.

And then there was a quiet knock on my door, and I had to move. I turned my head to acknowledge the visitor, just to stare into the same espresso-shaded eyes of my mystery guest from last night. And he stared back.

"Good morning, Miss Hathaway."

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 **Okay, so maybe this chapter was another filler as well. But at least it's over 1k this time.** **¯\\_(ツ)_/¯**

 **Sorry it took so long. But, nevertheless, to spur me on, I have some questions for you guys. So please leave your answers in a review or PM, and your input might be used in the next chapter! :)**

 **1) What's Rose's regular Starbucks order? And,**

 **2) What's the best type of stuffed animal? I'm talking, size, species, colour, however specific you want to be.**

 **Until next time, stay hydrated and beware of realistic life-sized cardboard cut-outs that scare the crap out of you.**


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter 3**

"Good morning, Miss Hathaway," he repeated himself, his Russian accent lingering on his words. Only at that, did I remember I was still staring. _Nice going, Rose, scare the hot guy off._

Because he was hot. While his hair was loose last night, today it was pulled back in a hair tie, allowing me to see his face in full. Let me tell you now, it was a glorious sight. His smooth, pale skin emphasised the strong features that embellished his face, transforming it into a monument to behold.

Today, he was wearing a pair of white doctor's slack and a light blue, collared button-down. I couldn't help but appreciate how he looked in these clothes that hugged his tall form—he had to be at least 6"5'. Maybe 6"6', 6"7'? I wondered just how much better he'd look with the sleeves rolled up, and his top button undone, and maybe without the shirt all together, and… Oh god, he was still waiting for a reply. I was so clueless, honestly.

"Hey there, comrade," I croaked, because I clearly could never manage a sophisticated introduction for the life of me, and I also hadn't had a drink in over 12 hours.

He noticed this and moved towards me, picking up a cardboard cup of water from my bedside table. He began fiddling with what had to have been a remote attached to the side of my bed, since the half of it supporting my torso and head was raised with a dull whir. This allowed me to sip without choking, and he handed me the cup.

I pulled my right arm from under the covers, hoping the shakiness of it would be undetectable. Taking the cup gratefully, our finger met around its circumference and a jolt of warmth ran through me. The pleasant feeling ran from my fingers through to the nerves in each limb of my body, and he released his grip far too soon.

I brought the cup to my lips and sipped carefully, thankfully not spilling any. The cool water was a blessing to sooth my dry throat. It went down easily and I polished half the cup, aware of his eyes watching me throughout.

I brought my eyes back to his. I'd always had a problem with eye contact—the directness of it made me anxious—but his eyes made me feel calm and comfortable. I swallowed, relishing in the moisture in my mouth, and he picked up conversation again.

"Miss Hathaway, I am—" he began speaking, but I interrupted him.

"Rose." I corrected.

He blinked, startled at being disturbed. "I'm sorry?"

I clarified my meaning. "It's Rose. Not 'Miss Hathaway', not Rosemarie, if you were ever thinking of using that one. Just Rose."

"Of course. Rose," he looked uncomfortable at the informalities, "I am Doctor Dimitri Belikov. I apologise that we did not get to meet before the operation, but I am the surgeon that performed it." The way his Russian accent influenced his fluent English made him even more attractive in my eyes, if that was even possible. He took a few steps back, as if considering taking a seat in the plastic visitors' chair, but he opted for standing by the wall instead.

I subconsciously put on one of my confident, carefree masks before continuing the conversation. "So, Dimitri, what brings you to my humble abode?" I gestured around the room, purposefully ignored his professional title. "Sorry I didn't get time to tidy up. I've been vaguely unconscious for the past 12 hours."

At this, he seemed to almost chuckle. Almost. His lips turned up ever so slightly at the corners and he let out a breath just a bit more noticeable than the last. I imagined this was how I looked when laughing at memes on Tumblr.

"I am just here to discuss your operation with you. It was, evidently, successful. It is expected that you feel pain in your right shoulder," he paused, and I nodded, "but that is just due to the gas that was used to blow up your stomach. That should go away over the next day or so, but you should be beginning to feel better already."

I continued my air of confidence. "Sounds great. So no life-threatening infections or newly discovered tumours then?"

This time, he actually did chuckle. "Fortunately not."

"What a shame. I would have loved to postpone my mid-years." I laughed along with him before taking another sip of my water.

When I looked back up, his expression seemed more serious than it was two minutes ago. His head was tilted just so slightly and his eyes were focussed on me, as if he was trying to decipher me. Clearly, whatever was coming next was not going to swing in my favour.

He swallowed before speaking again, and I watched his Adam's apple bob up and down. "Miss Hathaway—sorry, Rose… We did actually find something during the surgery that was of interest."

My body tensed, and I instantly became significantly interested in the rim of my paper cup, which I was now picking at with my fingers. I remained silent, hoping he would go away. Instead, he tried me again.

"Rose, you must know what I'm talking about. We need to discuss—". At which point, my father, forever my lord and saviour, strolled in to my rescue.

He immediately noticed my consciousness and bounced over to me, setting down two coffee cups on my bedside table and another bag of things next to my bed.

"Rose! How are you feeling? Does your stomach feel better now? Are you alright?" I cut him off before he could get too deep into the never-ending roll of concerned questions taken straight from the metaphorical parenting handbook.

Grinning, I answered with a laugh. "I'm fine, dad." He reached over and hugged me, and I groaned with pain as I wrapped my arms around him in response.

When he let go, he finally noticed the visitor in the room. "Ah! Dr Belikov. I'm Abe, Rose's father. I believe we met briefly last night." Dad extended his hand, to which Dimitri gripped firmly.

"Yes, of course we did. I remember your paisley scarf, however I must say that it is not quite as spectacular as today's variant." He inclined his head towards Dad's attire, a black and navy pinstriped suit that I could have sworn I'd put in the charity collection pile years ago.

"Well," Dimitri continued, "I must be going. Patients to see and meetings to attend. It was nice seeing you, Abe." He nodded his head in greeting. "Rose, I'll be back to see you later."

Of course. Of course this pushy, insistent man who probably wasn't even trained in America was reminding me that this conversation wasn't over yet. Because I didn't have enough to worry about already or anything.

"Catch you later, comrade!" I called after him as he was walking out the door.

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 **1.2k words _and_ two updates in three days? You lucky, lucky nerds.**

 **Okay, so maybe I am extending my scenes more than I originally planned. Whatever. At least it just means more fic for you guys :)**

 **You'll be seeing your responses from the last chapter in the next one or two chapters (still unwritten, so we'll see how far I get), but until then, please answer this question in reviews or PM:**

 **What're Rose's favourite artists and bands?**

 **Until next time, eat plenty of strawberries, unless of course you're allergic. That would be a devastation for the masses.**


	4. Chapter 4

**TW for viewing/observation of self-harm scars.**

* * *

 **Chapter 3**

My head was still reeling as my father handed me one of the cups from the bedside table, distracting my eyes from where they had been fixated on the spot Dr Belikov had been standing just seconds before.

"I bought you the usual, kizim, so hopefully you're up for the challenge," he spoke, using his affectionate Turkish term for me. He began restating the order, checking each requirement off on his fingers as he went. "A grande iced chocolate, double ice cream, double whipped cream, extra syrup—"

"And sprinkles," I finished for him as he grinned. "You certainly didn't go stingy on the sprinkles."

"Mark my word, kiz. One day you'll have a heart attack due to this unsightly addiction, and you'll end up back in this very same bed."

I responded to his grave tone, taking the optimistic route. "But at least it will have made me feel better in the meanwhile. You know, with my poor, sore stomach and it's lack of an appendix and all." I rubbed my stomach, over exaggerating the pain I felt.

"I believe that that, my child, is what people living in the real world refer to as 'one step forward and two steps back'." He grinned, picking up his own coffee cup and taking a long, full sip with his eyes closed. I've always been pretty certain that if he had never married my mum and sworn off commitment forever, the barista at our local coffee shop would have been a close second.

We sipped our drinks in comfortable silence as I calmed down from the previous scene, before he launched into a lengthy description of all the attractive men and women he had eyed on his way. I listened with half an ear, interjecting minimal approving sounds where appropriate.

"I'm telling you, approximately one in every twenty-five medical workers are unattractive. That's a 96 percent rate of attractiveness in this building. Would you believe that? And let me tell you, that Dr Belikov seems pretty…" He substituted words in favour of raising his eyebrow in my direction, grinning saucily.

At which point, I wanted to die. More so than already, but that's beside the point in my use of hyperboles.

"Stop right there. Take all that back. I refuse to allow you, under any circumstances, to make a move on my doctor." He started to interject, raising his free hand. " _Or_ ," I continued, "any of my nurses. No banging the medical staff."

That shut him up.

My eyes wandered to the bag resting against my bed.

"Hey, Abe, what's in the bag?" He followed my gaze.

Walking around to my side of the bed, he picked it up and began dumping the contents on the bed.

"Just a few things… Or everything, in fact, that I thought you might need."

A large lump of clothing, all tangled together, fell out first. Following it were all the smaller things. My toothbrush, a tube of toothpaste, soap, tampons—he blushed at that one—a pen, lip balm, phone charger, and about a thousand other things followed gravity's natural course. Two thick magazines fell out from the edge of the bag with clunk. _Better Housing_ and _Puzzles Weekly._ I looked up at him. "Not much in the gift shop, hey, pop?"

He ignored my comment and began packing up the bag.

* * *

Half an hour later, I'd had my vitals taken by a nurse, gone to the bathroom—a blessing after 14 hours holding in pee, let me tell you—and was now standing in the spacious bathroom, figuring out how to use the shower.

Turning on the water was easy enough. It was adjusting the showerhead I had trouble with. These things were always my enemies.

Only being able to walk hunched over didn't add to the ease of things, either. I'd thought my shoulders were sore, but man, I could barely walk properly. My back must have been at an angle of 45 degrees, which Abe had found hilarious.

I finally figured out how to adjust the showerhead, and shortened the height of it so it wouldn't get me hair wet. I tied my hair up in a loose, messy bun, grimacing as my fingers worked their way through the tangled, oily mess my hair had become.

I breathed in deeply and exhaled, reaching to my side to untie my gown. I halted my hands halfway through and made my way over to the door, double- and triple-checking that it was locked properly. Resuming, I worked the knot loose and let the gown fall off my shoulders.

I don't know why, but I'd imagined that they would do one long cut just above the appendix. It made sense, right? Apparently I didn't know how keyhole surgery worked, because what I found were three small gauze patches—one directly above my naval, one a few centimetres in from the top of my left hipbone, and a last ten or so centimetres down from the previous, just under the top edge of my underwear.

I touched one of them, experimentally. It hurt. So I touched it again. And again. And then, when my attention had faded from these three, fresh, professional scars, my eyes refocussed and I saw what lay beneath these patches.

From hip-height down, my stomach and hips were littered with masses of scars. Years' worth of self-inflicted pain was showcased on my body, as if on display for an art exhibit. Some of these were dull, barely there, only viewable in the right light, and some of these were prominent, just scarred over, and a fresh as a week ago.

It didn't stop there, either. The trail of self-hatred and loathing continued down to the top few inches of my thighs, where they stopped abruptly, making way for the smooth, tanned skin that I showed to the world. _If only._

I was standing there, staring at myself for minutes and minutes when a shuffling in the room outside forced my attention to a voice that called in to me.

"Are you alright in there, honey? Need any help?" a sugary-sweet voice called.

I blinked, remembering that I had to reply. "No thanks, I'm fine. Just figuring out how to work the showerhead, but I think I've got it now." To prove my point, I walked over and turned the tap handle, letting the fresh stream of hot water drown out her obligatory words.

* * *

One hot, long shower later—although it was really more of a rinse, since I was unsure of how wet I could let the bandages get—I was standing in front of the mirror, wrapped in a towel and marvelling at Abe's disastrous clothing choices. _Oh well,_ I sighed, _it's a hospital. No need to impress anyone here._

Avoiding any of the fabrics I'm sure _he_ would have liked for himself, I stuck with some plain black jeans and a baggy, grey-marled shirt. Less is more, and all that jazz.

Brushing my teeth with one hand, I opened the door with the other, walking right into my room and… Straight into Dr Belikov. An internal stream of curses insued, but on the outside, I just blinked. I just. Blinked. Playing it cool, obviously. I walked over to the bedside table and picked up my phone while he just stood there to the side, waiting, while toothpaste dribbled down my face. Walking back into the bathroom to spit, I closed the door between us and locked it.

I clearly thrive on confrontation.

* * *

 **Another chapter. I'm trying to make up for my lack of updates, if you couldn't tell.**

 **If you're reading this: please, PLEASE leave me a review and tell me your thoughts, opinions, theories, whatever you want. Something with actual substance really does help spur me on with writing, not just things like "update soon." and all that. They truly don't help at all, sorry but really not sorry.**

 **Until next time, go hug a dog and tell them how much you love them. Dogs love that.**


	5. Chapter 5

**A big thanks to guest users** _ **jinx**_ **and** _ **KitKat**_ **for leaving their reviews! They were much appreciated.**

* * *

 **Chapter 5**

The weirdest thing was, he didn't say anything. Nothing at all. He just breathed. So I sat down on the bathroom floor and waited him out. He was a doctor, surely he couldn't wait all day, right?

He lasted 42 minutes. I know, because I counted each of them while I lay on my back on the cold white tiles, listening to music from my phone on its lowest volume setting. Eventually, in the seventy-third minute, he left. I knew not because I heard him—goddamn man had the quietest footsteps I'd ever been in the presence of—but because I felt a distinct _lack_ of him.

When he left, the air around me turned colder, it immediately lacked the warm essence that I'd felt any time he was around. The room outside felt empty, and I felt lonely. Again.

I waited another 10 minutes before retreating back into the room. While I could clearly hear all the hustle and bustle of the hospital through my open doorway, in here, the silence overwhelmed me. I walked over and closed the bedroom door, before picking up the television remote that lay on my bedside table and pointing it at the screen screwed tightly into the wall.

I heaved myself up onto the bed that was ridiculously high off the ground. Surely this couldn't be safe? Regardless, I settled myself in, adjusting the angle of the back support and the placement of the pillows till I was comfortable. The show playing on the television was another one of those reality cooking shows, so I let it play. I may not be a great chef, but I still enjoy watching people crying over over-kneaded dough. What an enjoyment.

Sometime during the second episode of the _Great British Bake Off_ marathon that had been playing, a staff member entered my room with a tray of food. It looked horrendous. Nevertheless, I took a bite of the sandwich, listening to the calls of my hungry stomach. It wasn't even worth the effort.

I put it back down and finished the jelly cup instead.

* * *

At some point in the late afternoon, I was woken up by a gentle hand on my shoulder. I peered up from underneath the blankets, from where I must have dozed off.

"Hey there, kiz," the obnoxiously colourful being spoke. His mouth was the picture of happiness, but his eyes screamed 'guilt!'.

I knew this look. Being as influential as he was, he needed to travel frequently for his job. In fact, he was away from home more often than not. This face was the one he wore when he chose to break the bad news to me about another business trip.

"When is it?" I groaned, wiping sleep out of my eyes and sitting up.

He sighed, heaving himself into the visitors' chair. "Thursday. But, that means we'll get a day together at home before I leave!"

I, of course, focussed on other parts of his sentence. "I'm not getting out of here till Wednesday?" My heart dropped down to my feet.

"Unfortunately not, kiz. They advised me that you'll probably be getting out of here in the morning, since they want to keep an eye on you. The good news is, though, you won't have to go back to school until Monday, week after next!"

This brought my heart back up. Significantly.

* * *

The rest of the day was smooth-sailing. Abe and I spent most of it playing violent games of UNO with a deck of cards he had brought, before he took me down to the cafeteria to get some actual nutrients, taking one look at the mass-produced food they served me and immediately vetoing it.

Late in the evening, I managed to convince him that he didn't need to stay in my room anymore. He reluctantly agreed to go back to our house and his job, making plans to come back the morning of the Wednesday to pick me up.

He kissed my cheek as we said out goodbye's, and I was left alone again to dwell on my day.

I couldn't believe I was avoiding Dr Belikov so much. It was the most childish thing I'd ever done in my 17 years of life. I threw myself on the bed and groaned at my stupidity, digging my face into the pillow. He must have had some real sketchy opinions of me by now. Which wouldn't work in my favour, considering he was the guy I was… Trying to impress?

How could you try to impress someone but repel them at the same time? My logic was so screwed up. The thing is, I'm genuinely afraid of confrontation and letting me in. Not just some 'oh, I have a secret' nonsense; the slightest thought of someone knowing things about me past my favourite colour and lucky number _terrifies_ me to my core. It chills my bones, it makes me want to vomit, it leaves me a shaking mess. It gives me so much anxiety, restricting my breathing in gasps and heaves.

And none of this was normal. This was the most unnatural thing to ever occur to a teenager, so I guess I shouldn't be surprised that it happened to me. What sort of normal 17-year-old freaks out about people learning things about them? There were so many more troubles out there in the world—poverty, racism, the possibility of Trump winning the election. They all made the reasoning behind my fears pointless, but that didn't mean I could force myself into fearing them any less.

I didn't know what was wrong with me. I was a mess; I'd only ever been a consistent mess. The only upside was that no one ever saw me like this. I presented myself as a confident, snarky person, one who was happy with herself and her life. I was anything but that.

A million names popped up into my mind. _Worthless. Stupid. Hopeless. Pathetic. Weak._ Those were the names that accurately identified me, not 'Rosemarie Hathaway'. After all the practice, I'd excelled in the arts of name-calling and self-deprecation. Dozens of dozens of insults, and I knew them all. No wonder my vocabulary was exceptional.

As always, whenever I spiralled into one of these moods, I wanted to scream. But it was a hospital, and someone was bound to come running. Usually, this would be where I resorted to hurting myself—a hundred different reasons for it, and this was one of them. Unfortunately for my sanity, that wouldn't help my case at all.

So I dug my face further into the pillow, blocking the tears welling in my eyes that I stubbornly refused to let fall. My arms were clenched up underneath me, long fingernails digging crescent-shaped marks into my palms. And I waited for sleep to overcome me, because that was the only way I managed getting through some days.

* * *

 **Who's still prolonging certain moments while still having significantly short chapters? That's right, I am!**

 **Once again please leave some reviews! I don't care if they're good or bad, they still remind me that there are actually people reading this who (hopefully) are waiting on the edges of their seats for more!**

 **Another sneaky question for your reviews/PMs:**

 **What is Rose's favourite chocolate/sweet?**

 **Until next time, go put some fresh sheets on your bed! It'll make you feel like 80 times better, and lord knows I need to get off my lazy ass and clean my sheets.**


	6. Chapter 6

**Thanks again to all the wonderful guest reviewers! If you could please read the author's note at the end of the fic, I want to address some of the things that you guys mentioned.**

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 _ **TW: discussions of self harm.**_

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 **Chapter 6**

And I woke up the next day, exactly as I had for every previous day of my life.

The one thing I'd learnt through all this internal pain and despair, if anything, is that the world goes on. No matter how much you cry and scream, or how much you want it all to end, it will keep revolving. Babies will keep being born, joggers will keep jogging their favourite route, and people will still be succumbing to our capitalist society. Sure, you don't feel great a lot of the time, and there are people that care about you, but in the end, nothing really matters at all. The world does not care about anything but existing. The world does not care about me.

I groaned, rolling over on my stiff mattress. It amazed me that after a singular day, moving seemed significantly easier. I still felt far from recovered, but the human body and its capabilities never ceased to impress me.

Why was it so bright? I peeked open one eye, finding the source of my issues. My blinds were open, I assumed one of the nurses had done that while they were monitoring me. Why couldn't they have had the decency to leave my blinds closed? The fact that the room was entirely white wasn't even helping, goddamn colour reflects everything. It's not even like I'd ever cared about 'healthy sleep patterns'. All I wanted was some good quality sleep, which I was hardly receiving.

I flattened myself onto my stomach—at least, as best as I could with my chest getting in the way. Tossing the pillow over my head in an attempt to block out the light, I edged my arm in to seal the remaining gap.

Great. Now I was suffocating myself. I gave up, rolling back over and throwing the pillow on the ground. I stared at the ceiling, contemplating life, and all in all, having an enticing existential crisis. Today's theme was: _why do humans need sleep?_ This then progressed to a _why do humans even exist?_ , and before I knew it, the bold numbers of the plastic clock on the wall marked the time as half past 12.

Even though it was past midday, I just stayed there in bed, staring at the ceiling. I just wanted to lie there all day, not doing anything. I may have disliked them as a species, but I sure was envious of cats for this sole reason.

I was in the middle of this blank phase when the one person I had been avoiding showed up at the entrance to the room. For some odd reason that I would never be able to explain, I didn't even have to tilt my head to see it was him. My eyes stayed fixed on the roof, my hands resting on my stomach, and I _knew._ I just knew.

I sensed him walking in until a few corners of his tall form appeared in my peripheral vision. He sat down. I couldn't help but focus on how this sure was embarrassing, considering the idiotic way I acted yesterday. I cringed at the mere thought.

He didn't say anything. To me, the silence felt terrifyingly overwhelming, so I spoke first.

"Howdy there, Comrade," I said, tilting my head to acknowledge him. My eyes met his, but it felt like his chestnut orbs were igniting a fire in mine with their heated gaze. I looked at his hair instead.

He waited a beat before replying. "Good morning, Miss Hathaway."

I opened my mouth to correct him, but his saw this and caught himself before I could say anything.

"Rose," he corrected, the adorable half-smile from yesterday appearing on his lips for a brief moment.

Damnit, I'd only seen it twice and yet that smile managed to make my insides quiver. Why was he capable of doing this to me? He was my doctor, for heaven's sake. Not to mention, I was currently avoiding every possible contact with him at all costs… Which brought me back to reality, grounding me to the only possible explanation of why he was here. Unless he was just paying his all-time favourite patient another visit?

He cleared his throat in preparation. "Rose, do you know what I am here to say?" _Crap. Too good to be true._ I brainstormed for anything cool or witty that I could possibly say, and a classic Rose taunt fell out from between my lips.

"That even though I haven't washed it in five days, my hair still looks impossibly perfect?"

Dr Belikov sighed, ignoring my reply.

"You already know that your operation was completely smooth, and without any problems. However," he continued, and I braced myself for what would come next. Nothing good ever followed that word. "We do need to talk about those scars on your body."

My breathing hitched, almost impossible for anyone else to hear, but I was certain that he caught it. "What's there to talk about?"

I could see him carefully planning his choice of words; the gears in his head recognising that I was going to be a challenge.

"Rose, you cannot keep doing this to yourself."

"What are you going to do about it? I'm 17; I'm not a minor. You can't share anything if I don't want you to." I was still avoiding his eyes, but I knew they were still focussed on me. God, I was probably looking insane just staring at his hair like this. I needed somewhere else to look.

His hands moved, bringing my attention to them. They were clasped together loosely, his right thumb kneading a spot in his left palm. I wondered if this was a once-off occurrence or some sort of habit.

"You are correct there. However, I am a medical professional, and it is my duty to make sure that you understand how you can get help to deal with this—"

"Your 'duty?'" I scoffed, cringing at the word choice. "It's not your duty. It's my problem, not yours. What are you even doing here, anyway? You don't have to be here. I'm just one person in a world full of misfortunes. We're even in a goddamn hospital, surely there's someone here who actually both _needs_ and _wants_ your help right now."

I inhaled deeply. I didn't expect to say that much in one go.

He steeled himself for another try. Clearly, he was not going to let this issue go any time soon. "That is completely besi—"

I lashed out again. Clearly, I knew how to attract all the guys. "What are you even anyway, outsourced help? Was the hospital just understaffed a while back and you managed to score a full-time job?"

"Rose—" I could see his frustration with me building up.

" _No_ , Belikov. I don't want to talk about this. Goodbye," I said, my words bitter as I indicated the door with my head.

"Rose!" He had my attention, but without having any more words to spit out immediately after, I interfered before he could.

"Goodbye," I all but growled. I rolled over, facing the opposite wall from him to prove my point. Sure, I was being petty, but uncomfortable is uncomfortable, and I didn't want to feel it anymore.

I thought that was the end of it, but a few moments later, there was more.

"Rose," he spoke, calmly and softly. "You don't have to be alone."

I stayed completely still, closing my eyes as a silent tear rolled down my cheek. I felt his presence leave the room a short while after, leaving me alone with my thoughts and my sadness. He aggravated me so much, yet still, his words echoed in my head.

 _You don't have to be alone._

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 **Thank you to everyone who reviewed my last chapter! They kept coming in, and every time I saw an email notification, my heart swelled a bit.**

 _ **Important UD:**_ **As someone kindly pointed out in the reviews, the age when people are considered adult in US is 18. Honestly, I have no clue how all the legalities work out, so I'm pretty much just making up my own rules at this point to fit my story. Just FYI.**

 **Regardless, I hope you all enjoy this chapter! I think it's my favourite so far; everything just came out so smoothly and I didn't cringe at any point in the writing. As always, please let me know your thoughts in the reviews! I'd appreciate it so much.**

 **Okay, I'll be putting some replies to the guest reviews below this. You might not have enough context, but they still might be worthwhile browsing over in case any of you have the same questions.**

 **Until next time, go drink a glass of water! Hydration is very important, and we're all so lucky to have access to clean drinking water.**

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 **Okay, so I'll be compiling all of your reviews in chronological order, so if you've reviewed more than once, hopefully you haven't forgotten it.**

 **KitKat: Thank you for your reviews! Don't worry, I'm not planning on having any form of abuse in this. I can't stomach reading about it, only vague mentions at the most, so there's no chance I'll be writing it. And don't worry (again), I'll find a way to keep Dimitri in Rose's life. I ship Romitri too hard not to. I'm glad you liked chapter 5! Also, it's good to know that you have questions about the story. I think that that's one of the best things an author can do; get the audience to ask questions about certain things and have them wondering, then answer them throughout the story. Also, I agree with the whole childishness thing. Rose is definitely the character who does things wrong, but always owns up to them, and I too don't like fics where she doesn't own up to her wrongdoings/immaturity, as it doesn't make her a likeable character in my point of view. I'm glad that you like Abe's character! It is unfortunate that he's leaving so soon, but to me, it was essential to get Abe's character going right off the bat, considering he does have to travel a lot for his job.**

 **Jinx: Thanks so much for your reviews! Yes, I haven't decided on bi or pan for Abe yet, but he's definitely one of them. Also, I'll try to get some Christian/Lissa in! I haven't really figured out all the supporting character roles yet, but we'll probably be seeing Rose go back to school by chapter 10. Another also, but yes, I'm not a Trump fan. I'm Australian though, so I don't really know the whole ins and outs of the election, but I'm really praying he doesn't get elected. That's just my personal opinion though!**

 **Guest: Thank you so much for your review! I appreciate you saying that you like my plot. And don't worry—I also think that longer chapters would be a massive improvement. I'm just afraid that if I strive for them, I wouldn't be able to push them out consistently, if you get my drift? I don't want to use up all my writing energy in one go and then have tiny chapter after that. I'm definitely going to have to make them longer soon, though, considering there's going to be a looong road ahead of us.**


	7. Chapter 7

**As is custom now, guest review responses are at the bottom of the fic.**

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 **Chapter 7**

The rest of the day was as normal as it could be in a hospital.

I existed purely on the jelly cup served with lunch and cheap coffee from the vending machine down the hall, fuelling my body with all the great nutrients it needed to function. I actively ignored the nurses' advice to take a walk every hour "to avoid blood clots", instead flipping on the television and sulking for 3 hours.

Midway through the fourth hour, I was shocked out of my binge watching by a surprise visit from a very tall, very thin, green-eyed and blonde-haired beauty.

Lissa Dragomir, my closest friend, walked through the doorway whilst simultaneously squealing greetings and swinging a bag in the crook of her elbow.

"Rose! How are you?" she all but shouted to me, her eyes lit up as I leant up to hug her.

It was likely rude of me to feel disappointed at having my pity-party interrupted, but I did my best to achieve the same level of enthusiasm that she had. I had no idea how Lissa was always so excited and happy. Honestly, if she was on some sort of drug to get that way, I wanted all of America's stock.

"Well, hello to you too, kind visitor." I nudged her towards the visitor's chair.

She teasingly glared at me. " _Rose._ School's been fine, though obviously not half as fun without you there. Now, back to you. How's hospital life going?"

"Food sucks, linen sucks, and having my blood pressure taken every five minutes sucks." I grimaced, possibly exaggerating just a sliver. " _But,_ nevertheless, television access twenty-four hours a day is a definite plus."

"The food here surely can't be worse than our cafeteria food is, can it?"

"Oh, it is. I'm eighty percent sure that they recycle unfinished food into new meals instead of just dumping it into the bins." I laughed as she wrinkled her nose in disgust. "So, enough about me. How's Chri-stian?" I taunted, emphasising the first syllable of his name luck I did every other time when referencing Lissa's almost-boyfriend.

Lissa had been flirting back and forth with this guy, Christian, since the beginning of the school year. He'd transferred here, having just moved here from across the state. Despite me begging Lissa to find out in every one of their shared Biology classes, she refused to invade his privacy. He was snarky and sarcastic, yet still a huge mystery.

"Well," she examined her fingernails in an exaggerated movement before leaning forward with the gossip. Even though the door was closed and no one could hear us, and I doubted anyone would even care, she still spoke in a shout-whisper. "He invited me to the Halloween dance!"

"Gee, Liss, what a shocker! You know, I was seriously beginning to doubt that all that carefully-planned flirting and hair-twisting was going to go to waste. But no, you pulled through! You're such a hero."

"Shut up, Rose. You're just jealous because you've never had an actual emotional connection with a guy."

It was all light-hearted teasing, as were most things between us. I laughed along, but still, I knew that she was right. I'd never truly allowed myself to become emotionally attached to people beyond the platonic level, and even that was a struggle. I think that a part of me that I'd never acknowledged knew that that was someday going to my downfall.

My connection with Lissa was odd, to me. She was, technically, my best friend, or at least I was hers, I never referred to her as my best friend—only my 'closest' friend or something of the like. The term made me uncomfortable.

We spent all our free time at school together and went to all outings together. But our conversations were limited to the most material topics, and although I actively participate in them, they passively irritated me. We were always discussing all the recent gossip and drama, eyeing out cute guys, and complaining about irrelevant things. It just all seemed meaningless to me when there were so many more ghastly, terrible things happening in the world. We were just wasting oxygen.

I felt like this was all due to my inability to communicate, though. Lissa was really the only one in our friendship who shared things about herself; I always kept personal things close to my heart. It seemed like Lissa knew everything about me, but she didn't know _everything_ about me. She knew my height, my address, my family background, my favourite place to buy burritos. She didn't know about how I felt about my mum, or how I often fell into these little pits of 'nothing is real'. She didn't know about the scars on my hips. She didn't know how much I hated myself, how much I hated living, how much I hated _existing._

The problem, for me, was probably the most unnatural thing to fixate on. But still, after all, how could I logically refer to someone as my best friend when they knew nothing about me?

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She tragically deserted me about half an hour later, leaving me with the large gift bag I'd seen her swinging on her way in.

"Don't open it until I'm gone!", she'd said, so of course I opened the moment her vanilla-scented being left the room.

I reached into the bag, plunging my hand into a large amount of fluff. _Of course._ Of course that Lissa, pink and flowery girl that she was, brought me a stuffed animal to make me feel better. I grasped the plush toy and pulled it out of the bag, revealing a soft, inaccurately-coloured penguin. The stomach was pink, the black edging was blue, the beak was green. Each of the parts were stitched together seamlessly, leaving a perfect patchwork-looking creature.

Its beady black eyes stared at me. I stared back.

Pulling myself out of a staring contest with a goddamn stuffed bird, I lifted the bag back up, feeling more weight inside it. I peered through, begging Lissa to pull through for me… And she did. Inside rested three double-packs of Reese's cups and a bag of crispy M&M's.

I resolved to be more appreciative of her from that moment on.

Just as I was pulling out the food and depositing the cute-yet-too-cute-for-my-reputation toy back in, the food server came around with a tray for dinner, covered in pre-packaged lukewarm items. I held up a hand, stopping her in the doorway.

"No thanks," I couldn't help but grin. I held up my other hand, it's finger grasping my bounty of chocolate. "I'm all set."

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 **Another short chapter, but I'm like 80% sure the next one will be a nice size.**

 **Anyway, please leave me a review and let me know how you feel about Lissa! I'm really not sure with how I went about this scene, I definitely feel that I could have described and characterised her much better. Nevertheless, it's 12:20am right now and I have to get up at 5am, rip my soul. I'll be posting this sometime tomorrow, keeping up my nice every-two-days streak!**

 **I'm still beaming from my all the reviews from last chapter, so please keep the encouragement up! They're essentially a novice writer's fuel.**

 **Until next time, maybe try sleeping a little earlier than usual? Sleep is very beneficial. If you're reading this and procrastinating sleep right now, then please go to bed. Your TBR fic list isn't going anywhere.**

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 **KitKat: Thank you so much for your input! I appreciate it every time. You're really well-informed on these legalities, wow. I had a feeling that I'd be getting that bit wrong, but at this point, I think it's safe to say that I'm making up my own rules, whoops. Thank you a lot, though! I like knowing when I'm wrong and then being able to justify or correct myself, rather than spending forever wondering.**

 **Jinx: Thank you so much, again, for reviewing! Your comments always make me consider new ideas, like honestly, I haven't even begun to think about how to incorporate Vika into this story. Thanks for your ideas!**

 **Honey: Oh my god, thank you forever for your review! Your kind words mean a lot, I appreciate them so much.**

 **Ilk45: Thank you for your kind words! Never fear, I take all reviews into consideration always, no matter how harsh or kind. While I'm not going to write anything I am unhappy with, I am still writing this for other people to enjoy, and it means a lot when I get things 'just right' and everyone approves. Thank you!**


	8. Chapter 8

**Chapter 8**

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Halfway through the night, I woke up. It seemed that I was always having trouble staying asleep these days.

Which was a shame, because sleeping was the only time when I felt completely calm and happy. I didn't have to worry or fret, and I didn't have to live up to other people's expectations. I didn't have to function; I didn't have to _live_ for everyone else.

That was what I was doing, living for everyone else. I didn't particularly find life that enjoyable. Everything just seemed so pointless, the whole 'cycle of existence' thing. You know, getting a compulsory education, working to get your job, having kids, growing old and dying. Everything eventually lead to death, so I didn't see any reason in stressing over life's happenings. Even when I have a happy couple of weeks and I actually feel okay, I still wish I wasn't alive. Trust me, if there was no one that cared about me, I would be a rotting corpse by now, but unfortunately for me, there were. I wasn't living because I wanted to, I was living because everyone else wanted me to. And if you bothered asking my opinion, that wasn't really living at all.

I groaned, knowing that I wasn't going to get back to sleep anytime soon. I'd tried, before, but I knew by now that it wasn't even worth it. I'd be lying in the dark for two hours before sleep would take me back and I'd become blissfully unaware of the world around me again.

I debated my options in my head. I could watch television with subtitles on, or spend a good amount of time scrolling through the 'Explore' page on Instagram. That latter seemed like a nice option, but for some reason, I was pulling off my covers and sliding off the bed before I could stop myself.

I hobbled out the door, using all the ab strength I'd built up at the gym to straighten my spine a bit. If anything was going to make me miss the gym, it was going to be being bed-ridden for a good four days. I wasn't necessarily a fitness junkie, and I wasn't buff by any means, but I loved pushing myself to the limits and becoming something better. Each week, I was better than the last, and I had new ways to beat myself. Plus, I couldn't ignore the fact that the physical pain I felt as another benefit. It was just another way to hurt myself, but at least it was beneficial for me.

I walked down the hall in a path I had discovered on the day I woke up from the anaesthesia. One right turn and then two left turns. The stretch to my stomach felt good, although I couldn't kid myself into thinking that I wasn't still vaguely hunch-backed. I was still wearing my mismatched ankle socks, so the only sound I was making was that resulting from my need to breathe.

My destination was a small sitting area wedged into a corner where two edges of the building met. It had a small television on one of the walls, but the other two walls that matched to the exterior had several evenly-spaced windows lined up on them. There were comfortable mismatched armchairs around the edges, facing a varnished coffee table.

I walked over to my favourite chair, the one in the very corner, and collapsed into it. It was at this point where I regretted not bringing a blanket, realising that I probably had a good chance at falling asleep here. The rest of the chairs were comfortable—I knew, because I had tested them out. Seriously what else was I supposed to do when my days here were filled with avoiding doctors and bingeing reality TV? However, this one seemed to mould to my body perfectly. As if the chair and I were protagonists in a clichéd _Harry Potter_ smut fanfiction, it was like you couldn't distinguish where I stopped and the chair began.

Oh, god, I couldn't believe I was gushing about a chair. What had my life come to? Surely I should be certifiably crazy at this point. I guess it was just a really comfy chair. Maybe I could bribe someone to let me take it home with me. Or maybe they wouldn't even notice if I just picked it up and walked out of here with it.

I shifted the chair so that it faced one of the windows. Since it was night, the cream curtains were pulled shut, blocking off the view. I reached my right hand forward and pulled the curtain open so I could see out.

My fingers stroked the ribbed linen of the chair, my fingernails rising and falling over the texture, as my feet picked themselves up off the floor and curled underneath me. There wasn't much to see out of the window, truly. It faced the carpark and administration, which allowed me to people watch in the daytime, but the stars were out and the only movement was from a small amount of staff members inside administration.

Beyond the hospital was one of those perfect-society housing developments. Rows and rows of 3 bedroom, 2 bathroom houses all lined up, their interiors and exteriors replicated dozens of times. From here, it was a haze of grey and slightly darker shades of grey, but I'd seen enough advertisements for the area to know everything about them

I wondered what sort of families lived in them. I'd always pictured them as stereotypical four-person families where both the parents were still married, and the children always did their homework right after school before their bounds of extracurriculars began. In my visions, they'd have regular barbeques with family friends, and the kids would carpool to school. Definite soccer-mum style.

They sounded like the most boring of lives in my mind, but still, an aspect of them appealed to me. Even in my imagination, it still sounded nice to have a regular life with nothing unexpected. A life where you knew what would happen every minute of every day. A life full of certainties. I wondered if maybe I'd actually be happy living in one of those boring, clichéd families.

* * *

At first, I didn't even know I'd fallen asleep. The sky was exactly the same colour it was before, and wasn't that sole point reasonable enough for me to pass judgement? It's a human concept based on the movement of planets and the colour of the sky, after all.

I wouldn't have even known that any time had passed at all since I'd closed my eyes if it hadn't been for the blanket covering me, or the man in the chair that had been moved next to me.

"Couldn't sleep?" Dr Belikov asked, noticing that I was awake.

I shook my head, clumsily wiping dust out of the corner of my eyes. I shifted my body to sit up a bit, unfolding my legs and stretching the tension out of them. My left leg had gone numb from being under me for so long. "How about you?"

He let out a soft laugh, making even my tired being light up a bit. "I just came from surgery. I came to check on another patient around the corner from here when I passed this little hideaway and found you asleep in the chair."

"What was the surgery?" I asked, pulling the blanket closer. My sleep-deprived state was prone to saying things before realising how stupid they were.

"A man came in with kidney stones. It's only a minor procedure, but they were giving him a fair bit of grief, and I was the only surgeon free and onsite."

"Ooh," I feigned wincing. "Brutal."

"It was. I imagine he'll be feeling all kinds of pain when he wakes up tomorrow." He glanced at his watch. "Or today, I should say."

"Really? What time is it?" Again with the stupid. Honestly though, I really wanted to keep him talking just to keep hearing his voice. It was the most attractive voice I'd ever encountered, speaking in the lest creepy of ways.

"It's only half past two. Usually at this time, I'd be at home, trying to get some sleep and praying that I wouldn't be woken up by getting called in." He looked out the window into the distance.

"So why are you here?"

His gaze snapped back to mine as his eyebrows drew up in confusion. "I thought I just told you."

I clarified for him. "You said you're usually at home by this tie. So, why are you still here? You could be sleeping in your own bed by now. Lord knows you probably need it. You don't have to be sitting here with me, in what is," I looked down and assessed the quality of his choice, "the most uncomfortable chair in this room. Trust me, I've sat in all of them."

"I couldn't very well leave you as you were, could I? You were probably close to shivering."

"So you're just one for damsels in distress, then?" I challenged him.

"It seems so."

The air became tense as we both realised the underlying link my words had to my situation. The air stiffened, and I made an effort to break that again. "What is home, for you?"

He looked off into the distance again, gazing at the duplicate houses. "I live with my younger sister, Vika. We moved here a few months ago when I got the job at this hospital. The rest of our family lives in Russia, but she wanted an American education."

I scoffed. "Lord knows why."

"She seems to enjoy the system, surprisingly. I think it's mainly because her school offers Russian as a subject, so she's already excelling in a class." He talked of her affectionately, a fond expression on his face. It made me wish that I had a sibling to talk about me like that.

Have I mentioned yet how I tend to say stupid, irritatingly idiotic things when I'm tired? Honestly, for someone who's terrified of confrontation, I sure do prep myself for torture well.

"Why do you care about me so much?"

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 **So, maybe that was a shitty place to end it, but you guys already have 1.6k, and I'm afraid that if I kept going, I never would have stopped. xD**

 **As always, please leave me a review! I appreciate all of your feedback so so much, it reminds me that there are actually real people reading this who want the story to continue.**

 **Until next time, take a nice picture of the sky or something. The sunrise is so pretty.**

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 **KitKat: Danggg, your emancipate minor idea is so good. I'm still debating with myself on what I should stick with, so stay tuned, I guess. And ah, yes, Rose is definitely getting the sympathy card from the audience at this point.**

 **Jinx: Thank you! I hope this makes up for the lack of Dimitri in the last chapter. Also, I'm assuming you're American (?), but I'm Australian and I actually lowkey like the hospital food here, whOOps.**

 **Ilk45: Thank you so, so much! You're amazing.**


	9. Chapter 9

_**TW: discussions of self harm.**_

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 **Chapter 9**

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"Why do you care so much about me?" The words came out soft, and I regretted them as soon as they passed my lips. He continued staring out at that same spot, his face unreadable, as if he had some sort of mask up. I wondered for a second that maybe he didn't even hear me, although that was impossible, considering how even a whisper would jar the constant drone of beeps and whirs.

"I'm just one person; one small, insignificant person. I'm not important in any way at all, yet you're still so persistent. There are billions of people you could have chosen to help—people who need it far more than I do—and you chose me." His persistence and insistence, it wasn't just a random act of kindness. There was no way he didn't have an underlying reason. He pursed his lips slightly, and I thought for sure that he wasn't going to give me an answer, or that he was just going to brush it off. I stared at his face curiously, possibly too intensely to be even natural, and breathed, "Why me?"

He turned and looked at me, catching my eyes. "I have three sisters. Vika, I've already told you about. Then there's Sonya, who's 22, and Karolina, who's 26. Karolina has two children—Paul and Zoya." His lips upturned slightly when he mentioned them, as I wondered what his family tree could possibly have to do with my question.

"Zoya, my niece, she's only 12 months old. After she gave birth to her, Karolina, she… She suffered from postnatal depression. It happened after she had Paul, as well, but this time it was more severe." He swallowed. "No one noticed it. I think that with the new child, everyone was too busy to see what was happening. Either that, or we assumed that after the first time, she would have been more able to handle it." He looked down at his hands, his right thumb was rubbing his left palm again, a look of guilt in his eyes.

"Apparently, she'd been doing what—" he inhaled sharply, his eyes flitting to me and then back to his palms. "What you're doing. It was a coping measure. But one time, she cut too deep, and she lost too much blood. It was at Sonya's birthday party, and the whole family was there. Probably half the neighbourhood as well, I think. Karolina was upstairs, and we needed everyone present to cut the cake. I… I was the one who found her."

I didn't know what to say. What do you say, when someone tells you a story like that? "I'm sorry, Dimitri," I whispered.

He had a tear rolling down his cheek, but I don't think he even noticed it. "I was just finished with my degree at that point, just visiting my family before I moved over here permanently, so I was well-equipped to handle someone with a great loss of blood. I wasn't well-equipped for it to be her, but I managed it. The nearest hospital to my town is a fair while a way, so I had to take her to the town's only doctor. He wasn't overly educated; he knew just enough to get by in our town. But he had all the supplies, and I was a surgeon, so I had to stitch her up myself." He paused as the words floating in the air around us, before scoffing at the irony. "When you're a surgeon who's just graduated, you don't want your first patient to be your sister."

We sat there, inhaling air that had been tainted by this story. I waited, not able to form a solid coherent thought. Then something forced its way through my mind, pushing its way to the front, and I whispered the only thing I truly cared about. "Is she okay, now?"

Somehow, he knew what I was asking. Not just if she survived, but if she broke her way out of the depression. He looked at the windowsill, a lone ant making its long and tedious journey across the white-painted wood. "She spent some time in a psych ward. It was hours away, and I think that that was the only part she hated. Not that she was in a mental hospital, but that she was so far away from her children. She's good, now. Not perfect—I don't think anyone would be one hundred percent okay after an experience like that—but she's good. She's happy, and she's coping. And she's back with her family, where she wants to be."

We sat there in silence, neither knowing what to say. The ant was making a turn at the corner, going on to the sill on the wall to left of me. Two pairs of eyes were following its journey, now. A question popped into my head, and I turned to him. "How old are you, Dimitri?"

"Huh?" He was confused at my stark change in topic.

I spoke my logic. "Well, you look pretty young—I'd hazard a guess at around 25?—and I'm pretty sure it takes, like, 10 years to become a surgeon. So, to put it in colloquial language: what's a guy like you doing hanging out in a place like this?"

He smiled, sending a warm rush through me. Since we lived in such a remote area, I was able to obtain a scholarship pretty easily. It was at a university in the US, where they were trialling a new degree. Rather than eight years of university education, followed by many more in surgical residency, it was just a six year course for me. They compiled all the courses and practical training together. It was a very intense course, and I basically didn't sleep for six straight years. But I graduated at the top of the class, and even though they stopped the trial, they can't take my degree away from me now." He grinned triumphantly.

I calculated quickly in my head. "So you're, what, 24 now?"

"23, actually," he corrected me. "I was entered into school a year early, as well."

" _Damn_ ," I complimented, drawing out the sound. "You're not just a pretty face, are you?" I halted, realising what I'd done. I felt my cheeks blushing, but when I looked up to see if he'd noticed, he was too busy worrying about his own pink cheeks to focus me. _Rose: one, Dimitri Belikov: zero._

"So, what's home to you?" he asked, changing the subject.

"Hmm?"

He reasoned with me, "I already told you all about Vika and my family. Now it's your turn."

I thought, wondering how best to say things. I could tell him about my family, or my friends, or Abe's stupid cat. But I began where all stories begin, with the very basics. I told him about my house. "I live in this nice brick house, over near main street. Just a couple blocks over from it. We moved in when I was two years old. My bedroom's on the top story, facing the street. I like it because the view out of my window gets the sunset perfectly. It's got this weird-ass water feature out the front, which Abe refuses to get rid of. It's like some sort of bird-human hybrid thing. An abstract-style human with bird wings. It creeps me out, but he just won't give in."

"What about your family?" he prodded as I pulled the blanket closer to me, lifting my feet back up onto the chair.

"My mother ditched Abe and I when I was one, so it's just the two of us. He's gone a lot on business trips, though, and because I'm not a child anymore, I'm alone in the house a lot of the time." I breezed past that, ignoring Dimitri's look of sympathy. "Oh, Abe does also have this asshole cat called Theo, but I don't consider him family. Him being ginger, and all. And a cat. And an asshole."

"So, I'm going to guess that you don't like cats?"

"Hit the nail right on the head. I'd much rather a dog, but Abe believes that they're too much maintenance. Bullshit, if you ask me."

He chuckled. "Well, it's a good thing I didn't. Sorry about your mother, by the way."

I halted him before he could begin an unrequested, yoda-like string of self-assurances. "Don't be. It's her loss."

"That it is, Rose," he agreed, his smooth, cocoa-shaded eyes looking out the window. I followed his gaze out, and we sat in companionable silence.

As much as I had hated him, Dimitri was a really nice human. Heck, I'd known him for three days, and by this point, I wouldn't be opposed to marrying him or anything. Just sayin', just in case there are any cupids out there listening and willing to help a friend out. But he made me feel so _good._ Most of the time, I was plagued by heavy, bad thoughts. They were the metaphorical storm cloud that followed me everywhere I went, residing only over my head and no one else's. They blackened what could have been my rightest moments, and they'd ruined every shot I'd ever had at happiness. But when I was with Dimitri, I was relieved of their pressuring weight. They didn't go away completely, but all the time's I'd been in Dimitri's presence, they seemed to dull down a lot. It was a curious thing, indeed.

I reached down to pull my socks up. They'd slid down when I pulled my legs up onto the chair, and I could feel the elastic forming rings around my ankles. I fixed my left sock and moved onto my right, but I looked up when I heard Dimitri's sharp intake of breath beside me.

He'd followed my movements with my eyes, just like all humans subconsciously do to each other. He was gazing at my ankle, which was bared as I'd manoeuvred around the blanket to fix my sock, subsequently pushing it aside. The white glow from the moon shone through the window, lighting up dozens of smaller, faded scars on my ankle.

My hands froze, and we both had our eyes fixed on the limb as his voice cut through the air. "There are more?"

"Those are months old," I spoke softly.

"Rose…" he began, jolting me back to reality. I pulled the sock up covering my leg back up with the blanket.

"Dimitri, can we please not do this right now?" I pleaded.

He nodded slowly, probably remembering that arguing with me was a lost cause. "Okay."

All the hospital noises from beyond this room seemed louder, all the buzzes and beeps of monitors and machines. The tension was palpable, and I hated how it had changed from the comfort of earlier.

I stood up, stretching my spine and wrapping the blanket around my back and over my shoulders. "I'm… I'm sorry," I said, faltering. "I'm getting tired. And you probably need to get some sleep as well, honestly. Goodnight, Dimitri." I nodded towards him before moving the armchair back to its original position.

I headed out the door, a faint "Goodnight, Roza," trailing me on my way out. I'm still not sure if I imagined it or not. Honestly, I was probably delirious from sleep-deprivation.

I made my way back to my room, the blanket trailing along behind me as I walked. I was mentally slapping myself for every small, minor detail that I found fault in from our entire conversation. I don't know about you, but that's a lot to obsess over.

When I got there, I unlocked my phone, wondering what the time was. Sure, there was a clock on the wall, but it was dark and I was too tired to turn on the light. So, I guess I wasn't lying to Dimitri when I gave my pathetic excuses.

The screen lit up: 3:54 AM. I turned it back off, the brightness hurting my eyes. I groaned, tossing myself face-first onto my bed as the bandages on my stomach pulling taut. If I went to bed now, I calculated that I should've been able to get four hours of sleep before I had to get up and get prepared to leave.

Surprisingly enough, I dozed off quite easily. Maybe it was the effect Dimitri had on me, or maybe I was purely just far too tired. There was this one thought I had, swirling around and around in my head. I fell asleep that morning, after a rollercoaster of a conversation, wondering when I had stopped thinking of this peculiarly attractive man as _Doctor Belikov_ and had started thinking of him as Dimitri.

* * *

 **So, bad news. I start school again tomorrow, so I think I'll only be able to achieve weekly updates instead of the frequent ones I've been doing these past two weeks. To make up for that, though, I'm going to really try my hardest to make them longer? This one is 2,100 words to bid you until the next update, so enjoy. :)**

 **PSA friendly reminder to please keep all of your reviews coming! They mean the world to me.**

 **Until next time, go do that work you've been procrastinating. I mean it.**

* * *

 **KitKat: Okay I appreciate your review so much, but literally all I had to say is thank you for that compliment?! It made me squeal with joy. You're the best.**

 **Jinx: Thank you once again for your review! Mmmm, Romitri moments truly are the best.**

 **Ilk45: Thank you!**


	10. Chapter 10

**Chapter 10**

* * *

I didn't see Dimitri for the rest of my stay. It was disappointing, honestly, and I never thought I would have felt that, especially at the beginning. I didn't know why, and I don't think I ever knew why, but I just wanted _more._ More of his company. More of him.

A nurse came in when the morning was fresh and early, waking me out of my few hours of sleep. I grumbled, possibly letting a few expletives out of my mouth, to which she looked at me with daggers in her eyes.

She gave me some more painkillers before taking the cannula out from the crook of my elbow. It was a very thin tube, so much like a needle that I had thought it was one until they explained it to me. It allowed the IV drip to be connected, which made my elbow unsettlingly cold. Although it allowed me to bend my arm, it still made putting my hair up more difficult than necessary. Needless to say, I was so thankful it was out.

Breakfast was cinnamon bircher muesli and yet another fruit cup. I was less than thrilled, but it still could have been worse. Abe decided to turn up halfway through, shouting over the _Friends_ rerun that was playing on the television.

"Oh, dear god!" He gasped, dramatically covering his mouth. "My child, eating _hospital_ food! Come on, kiz, get dressed and I'll take you out somewhere where you can eat some actual food of both nutritional and aesthetic value."

He strolled over, his floral tie falling on my face as he kissed my forehead.

"Good morning to you, too," I grumbled, scratching at the itch his stubble had left.

I ditched the plastic cafeteria tray, instead picking up my bag and heading to the bathroom to get dressed. I opted to not have a shower—my hair was grotty enough as it was without even being wet, and I could just have one of actual quality as soon as I arrived home. Locking the door behind me and leaving Abe to chat up whichever nurse had just come in, I dumped the bag on the counter.

My hands reach in, pulling out the mediocre clothing choices that Abe had brought in days ago. A marled burgundy sweater caught my eye, and I pulled it out, untangling it from the mass of cotton and polyester that threatened to engulf it. Just as easily as I could down a cheeseburger, I pulled out my ripped black jeans and battered Converse of a matching shade. Because there was no way burgundy and black wasn't the best colour scheme ever.

My eyes fluttered closed. Some days I could bare to face my full body in the mirror, and others I couldn't even catch a glimpse of myself in the reflection of my phone without being repulsed.

I tugged my sleep clothes off, Shivering in the cold breeze from the vent. My hand fumbled around on the porcelain counter, grasping the sweater but fumbling and knocking it off the counter instead. I sighed and opened my eyes. Avoiding my reflection, I bent down to pick it up. My eyes grazed over my scars, and I shuddered. Suddenly, and strangely, I felt guilty.

I put all that guilt to the side, pulling my sweater on. My arms stretched through the soft sleeves, and I relished in the calming warmth.

After performing the ritual 'skinny jeans' dance, which just involves a lot of squeezing, pulling, and general hopping about, I tied up my Converse in double knots. My hands wove my hair into a messy bun, struggling with the oil and knots that came from an extensive lack of washing to hair that was already difficult to manage.

I splashed my face with cold water, embracing the shock before patting it dry. Finally, I dared to stare myself in the face., recognising the reflection before me. She looked like me—same brown eyes, brown hair, tan skin. Her face was perfectly proportioned. Her nose was a smooth slope, balanced in the middle of her face, and her eyebrows shaped her face at faultless matching angles. I hated her.

My eyes scrunched together, seeing all the bad thoughts splattered over my face as if emotions had actual visual representations and weren't just concepts. I couldn't face anyone like this. I could never show this face to anyone. My lips teased a smile and the girl in the mirror followed suit. She looked presentable. She would've actually looked happy, too, but all the pain had just been absorbed by her eyes. Maybe they would've even confessed all of this, if only someone cared enough to look.

* * *

We somehow ended up at the front desk, after Abe's impeccable sense of direction had us wandering down the same corridor multiple times. The pretty lady behind the counter smiled at me, her black hair bobbing in its ponytail.

"You all set to get out of here?" she asked, flipping through my papers with one manicured hand and tapping at her keyboard with the other.

"You bet. Although I'm sure going to miss the five-star dining experience." She laughed at my comment, her attention now focused purely on the papers. A name tag pinned to her shirt rustled with the movements, catching my eye. _Tasha._

"There's a reason I bring my own lunch every day. And it's not because I'm gluten-free." Tasha's lips teased at the corners, bringing her face alive. She really was pretty. Not even just pretty—beautiful. Pale skin complimented the constellation of reckless scattered across her flawless face, jarred by piercing blue eyes. I wished I was her. I couldn't help but feel that if I was her, everything wold be alright.

"Now, it says here that you're signed off school for the rest of the week, so you'll be heading back Monday. Is that all clear with you?" I nodded, grimacing at the thought. Tasha scooped all the papers up, tapping the bottom edge against the table to straighten them up. She placed them in front of me, fuchsia fingertips jarring the stark black-and white print. "Alright, Rose. Now, I just need you to sign here and here," she indicated with her pen, "and you'll be good to go."

I picked up one of the pens that were permanently chained to the counter and ran my loopy signature across the dotted lines. I set it aside as she took the papers back, bending over to file them under the desk.

"Great!" she smiled, straightening back up. "A copy of those will be faxed to you after you go. And one last thing—I have to give you this." Tasha held up an A4 envelope, tapping her nails against it. "It's just some papers about your surgery. You know—getting the wounds wet, physical activity… All the things I'm sure you've already heard from the nurses 80 times before."

"Awesome," I replied. "Some light reading for the car trip. Or some scrap paper for the fireplace. Whichever seems more appealing."

"Have fun this week," she smiled, before turning back to her computer.

I walked out back through the lobby, collecting Abe from the chairs of the waiting room.

"You all ready for some nutrition, Rose?" He fixed his tie as we headed toward the exit.

The cool air threaded through the weave of my sweater, leaving goose-bumps up and down my arms. "I don't care, as long as it tastes good."

"How you manage to eat so much fried food and keep that figure is beyond me," he remarked.

* * *

Abe and I pulled up to Antonio's, a small café a couple streets down from our house, and quickly stole the best booth in the diner—one in the far-left corner, with an oak table and plump red bench seats. The scent of coffee immediately overpowered my senses and I inhaled deeply, embracing it.

Abe went up to order our usual, and I sat down in the seat that backed the wall. I began picking at the fraying seams of the cushion, noticing my ratty fingernails. God, I needed to clean them as soon as I got home. And wash my hair. And shave my legs. Essentially, I was just looking forward to a really good, long shower. At least we had solar water heating.

He came back, letting out a huff as he sat down across from me.

"So tell me, dear father," I began, taking a sip of water, "why you're here and not at work?"

"You do realise that I'm the head of the company? It's not that hard to take the morning off when everyone answers to you," he countered.

"Sure, sure. I'll keep that in mind next time you use work as an excuse to not come to parent teacher interviews."

"That is a very valid situation to avoid, and you know it. Now, if you don't mind, I'd like to head to the bathroom before the food gets here—unless you'd like to interrogate me about that, as well."

I waved him away, not particularly interested in hearing any more. "Go ahead, take your time. Don't fall in."

"Classy," he remarked.

At loss for what to do while waiting for the food to be served, I began reading the laminated menu that I knew too well. It had a border of pink and green check, printed on both sides with the food menu on one and beverages on the other. I was halfway through the salads when I was interrupted by a low, teasing voice over my shoulder.

"Mmm. Leafy greens do provide such stimulating and entertaining literature."

I looked up into his smoky green eyes. "Adrian!"

"Really? I was unsure if my name was Adrian or Aidan. In any case, thanks for letting me know." His eyes glinted with mischief.

"Ass. What are you doing here?"

"I thought that was pretty obvious. Speaking of—an omelette and long black for the sir, and a caramel latte with a serving of waffles for the princess." He winked at me, taking the plates off his tray and setting them down on the table.

I scoffed. "Trust me, I am the farthest thing from a princess."

"Well, that's your opinion. I, your father, and I'm sure plenty of other men would beg to differ."

"God. Nice going with the heteronormativity. So, really, what are you doing here? Specifically, in a bright green apron and serving me coffee."

He rested the empty tray on our table, brushing a brown lock of hair out of his eyes. "I've picked up another job here. The hardware store just wasn't cutting it, so now I work here some mornings, and all day Sunday."

I inhaled in disbelief. "That's brutal. Your parents still won't give you any money to, you know, live?" His parents were deeply, insanely Catholic. He told them that he was an Atheist some time last year, and they disowned him from the family. He was still a minor, though, and they felt obliged to keep him in the house to avoid town gossip. But as soon as he finished high school, they kicked him out and cut him off.

It was awful. It was absolutely and positively devastating. I'd been his girlfriend at the time, so I'd witnessed firsthand just how much it broke him. They'd threatened it, but we'd never truly expected that they would actually go through with it. But after a couple of weeks of staying in the spare bedrooms of various friends, he'd picked himself up and continued on with his head held high. He was now studying fine arts at the community college and working as many part-time jobs as he needed to upkeep his apartment. Purely based on his determination, I admired him a heck of a lot.

"No way in hell," he sighed.

"They'll come around one day. You'll be giving them their only grandkids one day, and they won't be able to ignore you then."

"I sure hope you're right. Anyway—how are you? I saw on my Facebook feed that you just got your appendix out. You seriously can't be feeling too great right now." His voice was laced with concern.

"My stomach's killing me and I'm ready to sleep for about five centuries, but it could always be worse. I think I'm just happy to get the rest of the week off school, if anything."

"Ah hah! You can't talk about me skipping out on the interviews any more, missy." Abe appeared in front of me, sliding back into his seat opposite me. "Adrian, what a lovely surprise."

"You too, Abe," he replied. "Well," Adrian huffed, "I guess I should be letting you two get on to your breakfast. Enjoy it while it's hot. Oh, and tell me if the milk's burnt. It's only my second day at the coffee machine, after all." He threw a wink our way, picking his tray up and strolling back to the counter. He'd always loved winding me up.

I looked down to my breakfast. The whipped cream had already started to melt, so I scooped up my cutlery, eager to stop the potential river of cream before it began. I couldn't move my stomach, but I sure could fill it—and that I did. Waffles were my go-to breakfast choice. Heck, it was one of my top choices at any time of the day. The sweet, tough dough with fresh fruit and creamy toppings combined into the best possible menu option. Maybe I've put too much thinking into the pros and cons of waffles, or maybe you've just never tried the ones made at Antonio's.

"Christ, one would think you hadn't eaten anything in days," my dad said, making me look up.

I quickly swallowed my last mouthful. "You try hospital food some time. I'm sure you'll absolutely love it," I teased. His face paled at least three shades.

My eyes drifted to the newspaper he was holding as I set down my cutlery. "Anything interesting happening in the world today?"

"Well, stocks are up three percent."

"Good lord. You know that means nothing to me." I shuddered. "How about things normal people actually understand? Some pop culture, maybe? I could tolerate politics or the weather, as well."

"Hm, let's see." He scanned the front page. "The 19th of October… Currently, Trump's expected to win the election…" I cringed at the thought. "Michael Buble's tour was cancelled, and there's a public outrage at the amount of litter at our local park. We're expecting some pretty heavy snow, as well."

"You know, I think I've grown out of all of last year's winter clothes…" I said slyly, edging my way.

"I'm the head of Montana's largest banking corporation, Rose. You don't have to be sly."

"Fine. Can Lissa and I go out this weekend, then? I still need to find a costume for the Halloween dance, as well." I took a long sip of my latte, almost inhaling it. "God, I've missed quality coffee."

"I'll make a caffeine addict out of you yet," he murmured, finishing off his own mug. "Anyway, are you sure you'll be well enough for that? When is it, again?"

"It's Friday week. Of course I'll be fine by then. I'll just drink a lot of orange juice or something."

"I'm not exactly sure that's how it works, Rose." He began piling our plates up, stacking the cutlery systematically on top. The clinking of porcelain and metal rang through my ears.

"That's your opinion…"

Abe dropped me off at the house soon after, only getting out of the car long enough to unlock the door and take my bags up to my room. In all honesty, I probably could have done that myself, but keeping the sympathy card going could work out in my favour later on.

He stopped on his way out, turning to kiss my forehead. "Be good, okay? Call me if you need anything. Helena will be here later, and I'll see you tonight for dinner. We'll watch the new Star Wars season or something." Typical father.

"It's called The Force Awakens, Dad, and it's a singular episode, not a season. Don't worry about me. I'll be fine," I reassured him.

* * *

Yet another day was spent binging television reruns. This time it was BBC Sherlock, and I was ambitiously aiming to get through the entirety of the show in one day. Ambitiously being the key word. Apart from getting up for the bathroom, I didn't move from the couch all day.

Around lunchtime I heard the front door unlocking, and soon after a familiar face popped around the doorway. "Helena!"

She was our housekeeper or something—I honestly never really knew. She just kept the place tidy, washed some of the linens, and cleaned anything that was in dire need of it.

"Rosemarie, how are you feeling? The place has been so empty without you! Do you need anything? Would you like lunch? Don't even bother getting up because I won't let you. Stay down, recover. What do you want for lunch?" She always talked eighty miles a minute. The sweetest lady I'd ever met, her accent lilted towards eastern European.

I usually didn't like to rely on her because I was an independent adult who could make her own meals and keep her bedroom tidy without help. Still, I allowed her to make me lunch this one time, because there was honestly no way she would let me do it myself. Helena was stubborn and determined, and you never wanted to disagree with her.

Sometime in the afternoon, and mid-way through the second season, my cell phone started ringing in my pocket. I wriggled about, knowing there was only one person it could be. After a seemingly long struggle with my blankets and the tight denim of my jeans, I managed to pull it out and bring it to my ear. Sure enough, it was Lissa on the other end.

"Rose! How's your first day back at home going?" Her always-excited voice cut through the air.

"Exceptional. I'm never going to miss being checked on three times an hour. How's school? How's Christian?"

"Same old, same old."

"You're over him already? Gosh, that was quick."

"Hush! I was getting to it before you so rudely interrupted me."

"Right, sorry. Continue please, your highness," I teased.

She ignored that, of course. "So, the Halloween dance. Friday week. Will you be fine enough to make it?"

"As long as I'm dosed up on enough pain medication, I should be fine."

"Perfect! Which just means—"

"We need costumes," I finished. "Saturday? I was thinking we could go out then?"

"Sounds good. But you're really, truly sure you'll be fine for going out by then? That's in like, three days. You _can_ always say no, you know."

"Please, Liss, I'll be fine. No need to worry about me. Just text me the when and where and I'll be there."

"Okay. Well, I've got to go finish off my Science homework. Stan's still the same old asshole, and his class isn't half as fun without you." Good old Alto. My days definitely weren't as enjoyable without being able to wind him up for a solid hour.

"Glad to know. Good luck!"

"Thank you, Rose. Bye!" she called out as I hung up.

* * *

 **So, I'm back! Thank you all for the kind words and patience. It means the world. And I really think I'm doing much, much better.**

 **Enjoy this super long chapter (for me, anyway). And if you did like it, please just leave me a quick review to let me know that you don't completely hate it! Reviews, good or bad, are honestly the brightest parts of my day.**

 **Much love.**


	11. Chapter 11

**Chapter 11**

* * *

And on and on the day dragged. Somehow I migrated from the couch up to my bedroom, dragging myself up the stairs with excessive pain and sweat. By that time, it was almost 3am, and the only lights still on were the faint glow from the security monitors. I made my way down the hallway, bumping into a bench as a soft profanity left my lips. One would think that with 17 years in this house, I'd have enough sanity and common sense to not bump into hall tables.

I plunked down in my bed, the blanket from downstairs twisting uncomfortably around me. I made to move it, but though better of it when my stomach screamed at me. At this rate, I was never going to get to sleep. It was hard enough as it was, but the new pains just made it so much more difficult. Oh well, it was nothing I wasn't already used to.

I couldn't disagree that sitting in the dark in my bedroom all night was boring, though. So I braced myself, reaching one hand under my bed and fumbling around, searching for my laptop. My gut twisted in pain, but I wasn't about to give up. It had to be under there somewhere.

Honestly, maybe I even relished in this easy pain. Something that I could explain, and complain about, and not keep hidden. Something that I could easily feel with a slight prod or arch, barely even touching my body at all. Something without commitment. Something free.

I finally felt it and brought it back up, the weight making my muscles work twice as hard. I winced, rolling over on my stomach and setting it on my pillow. The power light shone blue as it booted up, and before long, I was typing Dimitri's name into the Facebook search bar.

There were no profiles on Facebook with his name. I went to Google, but there were no relevant results there either. What kind of man has no social media presence? Honestly, though. Talk about an enigma. Even my dad had a Twitter.

It was just past 4 when I resigned, finally feeling tired. I shut my laptop lid and blinked as my eyes adjusted to the sudden darkness. I pushed it away weakly, not bothering to move it off the bed. Screw radiation poisoning.

* * *

The rest of the week passed more or less in the same manner. Plenty of sleeping, groaning, and complaining from the comfort of the lounge. Even more procrastination on the masses of vaguely-described homework that my teachers emailed to me. My dad left in the morning of Thursday, leaving me alone with the exception of infrequent visits from Helena.

My alarm blared far too early in the morning of Saturday, jolting me from my dreamless sleep, or lack thereof. Of course Lissa wanted to get started early—she was the earliest, chirpiest bird I knew. It was like her mornings were my nights, and her nights were my mornings.

I had a warm shower, wrapping myself in a towel and going over to my wardrobe. I looked outside to check the weather and sighed in relief as it started sprinkling. All I ever wore were jeans and boots, so autumn and winter were definitely the seasons for me.

I rummaged in my closet, quickly choosing an outfit. I'd spent so long in the shower, I really only had minutes before Lissa would be here to pick me up. I pulled on a pair of light-wash jeans and the first pair of socks I found. My washing basket was completely full, and the only decent sweater I had that was still clean was a grey ribbed piece from H&M. I shrugged my arms in, but paused when I felt the gauze patches on me. They were damp, even though the outer cover was plastic. Were they meant to get wet? Were they allowed to? I was sure the nurse said I could take them off on Sunday which was close enough, but what if it wasn't?

I sure as heck wasn't going to contract a disease from wet surgical wounds. What a dumb way to die. My eyes scanned my desk as I rummaged through the papers, looking for the envelope I was given at checkout. Surely that would have something even slightly useful in it. I finally spotted it wedged between my printer and the wall and I reached over, plucking it out with two fingers. My abdominal muscles winced, but the pain was finally beginning to fade. I was just glad I could finally walk normally and stand up straight, honestly.

The sticky seal resisted but I managed to peel it back with some effort. I reached my hand in and pulled out a hefty pile of papers and brochures, which seemed a bit excessive for one small operation, really. I leafed through them, reading the headings to determine which one would be the least wordy. I had no time or effort for detailed medical descriptions on what was happening and why, I just needed to know if I'd screwed up everything already. _Patient Record, Appendicitis Facts and Figures, Post-Surgical Care, How to Stay Healthy at Home, Teen Health and Wellness, Anxiety and Depression Association of America Youth Support, Recovering from Self-Harm._ My hands froze. God damn it, Dimitri. Why couldn't he keep his nosy self out of my business? It was nothing that he needed to be concerned about.

A horn beeped from the driveway and I jumped, startled out of my annoyance. I shoved the papers back where thy came from, assuming my issue was nothing I needed to be concerned about. At least if I did contract a deathly infection, well, maybe death wouldn't be so bad.

I grabbed my side bag and my purple Docs, half pulling them on and half jogging to the door. I pulled the door shut behind me, leaving all the visible parts of my broken soul locked inside.

* * *

 **Sorry this is so short and dodgy. I'm trying to ease my way back in, and it's pretty hard for me to even pump 500 words out in one go. I get distracted so, so easily. Plus, I just really wanted to get even the smallest bit up for you guys so you wouldn't be left hanging.**

 **I'm starting my final year of school this year which will definitely induce a lot of stress, So expect shorter but hopefully more regular chapters. No matter if I write them down or not, creating stories will always be my outlet.**

 **I hope you're all well. Happy belated holidays :)**


	12. Chapter 12

**Chapter 12**

* * *

"What's up, buttercup?" came the greeting from behind a pair of cat-eyed sunglasses.

I slid into the passenger seat, pulling the door shut behind me with a nice, solid thud. "The sky."

"Ass." Lissa put the car into reverse, checking over her shoulder as she pulled out of my driveway.

"You were expecting it, don't deny it. And it's your own fault, too, for waking me up so goddamn early." My fingers fumbled around the seatbelt clip, finally hearing it click into place. Satisfied, I reached into my bag and put my own sunglasses on. The weather may have been getting cooler, but it was still sunny as heck.

"Whatever." She tapped her fingers against the steering wheel, in time to whichever hottest 100 station was playing on the radio. "So, how's your recovery coming along?"

I turned to her, shaking my head in dismay. "Is that seriously all anyone wants to talk about? I'm off school for a week, miss out on a century's worth of homework and gossip, and people just want to ask me how I am?" I leant down to properly lace up my boots, tying the knots tight for good measure. "I'm still alive, if that helps."

"Yeah, yeah, forgive me for trying. Maybe one day I'll be able to warm your cold, dead heart," she teased, smirking with her glossy pink lips. "Any chance of an actual response, though? You have to see the doctor or surgeon or whatever again soon, right?"

Good lord. I hadn't even considered that. I just assumed that as soon as I walked out of the hospital, I wouldn't have to see Dimitri again. It was a full forty minutes away from my house, so why would I ever? I really didn't need that. No way I was going back. No way. Avoidance was pretty much the only thing I was good at. So how could I get out of it? I could call in and tell them I was too busy, but everything was going smoothly. Or I could just not turn up and never ever answer my phone or email again. Maybe I could just ditch all and move to Canada. Vancouver surely wouldn't be too bad.

"At least that's what everything online said, so I just assumed, I mean I did do a lot of reading but probably not enough, so—"

"Woah, calm down there, buddy. Just relax. I'm still walking, I'm still breathing. I can almost stand straight again. Everything's settling down nicely, if only _you_ would quit worrying and help me decide what to wear to the Halloween party."

I could see her eyes widen in excitement, even behind the tint of her frames. "Right, that. So, I was thinking, maybe we could go as a duo."

"No."

"No? You haven't even heard me out yet."

I groaned, knowing it would be easier to just let her get it over with before I jumped out of the car window. "Fine, I'll listen. What's your plan?"

"So…" She chewed her lip. Gosh, I was definitely going to hate this. "Fairies."

"No way. In Hell. This had better be a red light up here because I swear, if you make me go as a fairy, I will open this door and leave you right her and now." Of course she wanted to go as something so clichéd and feminine. That was Lissa all over—pretty colours, cute dresses, and glitter. So. Much. Glitter.

"Just here me out, Rose," she pleaded, slowing the car to a stop as she waited for the light to change to green. She leaned forward, pulling down the sun visor and peering into the mirror on it. I opened the glove box and pulled out her makeup bag, pulling out her mascara and placing it into her open and waiting palm.

"I know what you're thinking. Pink, Purple, sparkles, glitter. But not all fairies are so clichéd." Lissa opened the tube, running the wand through her lashes. She blinked a couple times, and swapped the mascara for the lip gloss I had at the ready. "It is Halloween, after all. You can go as a goth fairy. All dark colours and black eyeliner and fishnets. Or you can be super sexy, because I know you'll love to, in red or purple or something."

"Green, Liss."

She balanced the steering wheel with her elbow, twisting the tube back into place. "I'm just saying. Please think about it. We won't be as stereotypical as usual fairies are. We'll be super unique. And cute. Gosh, it'll make the cutest photos." We drove into the parking lot, easily finding a park near the entrance for once. Maybe waking up early did have its perks, after all.

"Of course you'd say that."

"You know it." Lissa steered into the parking space, forgetting her words for a moment as she straightened up. "So, will you?" She turned off the engine and moved to face me, begging with those huge green eyes.

She was so charismatic and innocent, I could never resist anything she wanted.

"Are you going to keep raving about it until I agree?"

"Yes," she nodded her head firmly.

I pretended to mull it over for a moment or two, watching her writhe in agony. Or something very close to agony, at least. "Then yes," I decided, and her eyes immediately lit up.

"Yes! It's going to be so amazing Rose, I promise you won't regret it. Now we have a plan, we know what to look for! We'll have to go absolutely everywhere. We might even have to make our own wings, honestly, it's so hard to get them perfect. Do we want tutus? Do they even sell tutus in our sizes? Gosh, this is going to be excellent."

I zoned out of Lissa's ramblings as we exited the car. I loved her, but personally, I sure as hell couldn't wait to get the day over with.

* * *

We collapsed into some seats in the catastrophically noisy food court, already exhausted. I dumped my bags on the ground, leaning back in my seat and stretching my back. My stomach was killing me by now with all our walking, but I just let it be. Honestly, I didn't mind making it worse. It's not like it'd kill me or anything.

"So, remind me again what her name is?" I took a sip of my smoothie, rubbing my elbow from the marks my pounds of shopping bags had left. Shopping with Lissa was bad enough, but winter clothes weighed an absolute tonne.

"Viktoria. She's super super nice, she just transferred here from another school in the area. There are better subject choices at our school, apparently." Lissa hefted her own weight of bags onto the table.

"So we're going there after the Halloween dance?"

"Yep! You, me, Viktoria, Meredith and Jill. It's going to be absolutely exceptional." She smiled, taking a sip of her own green juice.

"Sounds great," I smiled back. Maybe the party would actually be great, like Lissa was promising. Still, I couldn't shake the anxiety the filled my body and exited only with the _tap, tap, tap_ of my little finger against the cold, icy cup.

* * *

 **Once again, sorry for the short filler chapter! I hope you liked seeing some more of Lissa, though.**

 **Please leave me a review and let me know what you'd like to see happen with this story! Anything, even the more detailed plot or smallest moment will help me get my brain thinking a bit more. If you're sitting there about to close this tab and pissed that it's just another filler, just remember that the more reviews I see in my inbox, the more motivated I am to write!**

 **Thank you, have a good day! xxx**


	13. Chapter 13

**Chapter 13**

* * *

"Do you need any help with those?" Lissa called over her shoulder.

"Don't worry, I've got it," I replied from under the hood of the car boot.

Reaching for the very last bag, I grabbed it and set it down on the pavement before closing the boot with probably more force than necessary. I picked everything up and headed over to the driver's seat where Lissa sat, idling the car with her window open.

"If you're sure," she said in disbelief. Growing up with me, she knew by now that it was just better to let me go my own way or all hell would break loose. "Anyway, have a great day. I'll be back here bright and early on Monday, and if you're not out by quarter past, I _will_ come inside and pour cold water down your shirt."

"Is that a threat?" I took a step back, feigning disbelief.

She shrugged. "It's the only way to get through to you. Anyway, tell Helena I said hi."

"You know I will. Bye, Liss," I smiled, backing up to the entrance of my house.

"See you on Monday, Rose!" She backed out of the driveway, rolling up her window.

I sighed, lifting all my bags and moving to the front door. My hands fumbled for my key, digging around in my purse even though I could barely move with the insane number of bags stacked on my arms. Still, there was no way I would take them all off for such a simple task. A one-trip person, I was.

Finally, I pulled my hands out in success. Maybe I wasn't so screwed up, after all. I pushed the door open, wedging my foot between the gap before it would swing back and seal again. I leaned against I, heaving with my shoulder and squeezing my way through.

I dropped my armfuls down on the ground, turning around and locking the door behind me. I put my weight against it and sunk to the floor with a sigh. I was and always would be an extrovert at heart, but keeping my façade on for family, friends and peers just became increasingly difficult every single day. The smiles were harder to fake, the laughs were tougher to force. Still, I kept at it. I pushed my way through. It would hurt them too much to see me like this, and I couldn't ever bare to have people see me in a different way, or tread delicately like I knew they would. Protecting them _and_ protecting me. A dual defence. That's what it was.

I sat there against the cool marble tiles, head on my knees and knees bunched up to my chest. Thankfully, Helena never came on weekends so I was able to let myself look the same on both outside and in. After a moment or so, I finally managed to bring myself up to standing with an ache in my stomach that was disturbingly comforting.

Another sigh passed as I brought all my purchases up to my bedroom. The house was silent. I never liked the silence. It gave me too much room to think.

I dumped everything on my bed and unlaced my boots, setting them in my wardrobe. I looked around, not knowing what to do. I had all these new clothes to wash and put away and about three years' worth of schoolwork to catch up on, but I didn't want to do either of those. I didn't really have it in me to focus on much more than a speck of paint, and the silence was really getting to me. I'd just gotten home, but I needed to get out, anywhere, as long as it was away from this empty house.

I probably should have thought more about the stupidity of my choice, but if one thing was evident by now, it was that being stupid was the one thing I excelled in. I opened the doors of my wardrobe again and pulled out some workout clothes and sneakers.

I kicked off my jeans, pulling on a pair of my longest bike shorts. I stretched a sports bra and tank top over my head, as well, figuring that I would be covered enough. Honestly, it was the Saturday before Halloween, so it wasn't like anyone in my neighbourhood would be home to see me, anyway.

My sneakers hugged my feet as I tied them up, perhaps a bit tighter than what they needed to be. Feeling satisfied with my double knots, I left the house with nothing more than my watch. It wasn't like anyone would try to break in to our suburban home surrounded by a thousand-something homes of soccer mums.

I left the driveway, my feet pounding at the ground in a moderate jog. Honestly, I'd only ever ran in gym class. Even then, I was truthfully pretty good at it, but I'd never electively ran. Right now, I wondered why. There was something so exhilarating about going past the world faster than it could chase, challenging it to mess with you. Having your only equipment be yourself was so powerful. So many people relied on their bicycles, their dance shoes, their baseball bats. But how many only used their bodies as their armour and weapon?

And it was a weapon. A weapon of self-destruction. I sped up, ignoring how the amount of pain that was flooding my stomach was most definitely good. Instead, I relished in it. It felt nice to have some sort of natural pain for once. I could feel again, even if it was something that most people would never ask for. I challenged the constant _thud, thud, thud_ of my feet to go faster than I was capable of.

It was a duel, between my body and my willpower. Which one would weaken and give up first? The breeze felt good on my face, although it wasn't doing any good for my parched throat. My lungs were desperately trying to hold on, gasping for any oxygen they could get and yearning for a breaking. My calves ached from holding me up, but I just kept pushing myself faster and faster.

I looked up from the ground where I'd been staring, focussing on not tripping over anything. The houses rushed passed me, a blurry compilation of grey cement and orange brickwork, two-stories and one-stories and well-kept gardens. Somehow I'd made it to the edge of my town, a good mile-and-a-half away from where I'd begun. I pushed myself just to get to the end of the street, sprinting for the last hundred yards. My body screamed in complaint, but I held on, if at least only just. If I couldn't do this, then what _could_ I do?

Reaching the end of the street, I turned left and stumbled forward. I bent over, my hands on my knees, gasping for breath. _Water._ Water probably would've been a _really_ good idea, considering I hadn't really consumed more than a piece of toast and a smoothie today. My body felt so, _so_ weak, but also… Good. Every part of me ached, reminding me of just how nice pain made me feel.

Starting up again, I turned the corner in a slow jog home. I hadn't even caught my breath yet, but some sort of momentum kept me going. I yearned to prove my own strength to myself.

* * *

I unlatched the side gate of my house, almost completely doubled over in a pant. I desperately needed a glass of water, or four, and a long hot shower. Pain tore through my body—my calves burned, my throat stung, and my entire torso throbbed. Going on a three-mile run less than a week after surgery _really_ wasn't a good idea. But if I wasn't a glutton for self-punishment, then what was I?

* * *

 **Hola. I'm back with another totally unacceptably short chapter, but at least :) it's something :)**

 ** _Please_** **leave me a review and tell me your thoughts! All of your reviews, no matter how scathing or critical, are what keep me going. Also, I have a very important special question that I desperately need answers to! And the query is:**

 **Do you think Mia would be best suited as a protagonist or antagonist? Or an antagonist-that-turns-good sort of thing?**

 **Thank you, and as always, have an excellent day!**


	14. AUTHOR'S NOTE, PLEASE READ

Hey there, everyone! For starters, please don't kill me. I really want to update, trust me, but school is kicking my ass and I don't even have the time to eat, let alone write a good solid chapter.

Anyway, apologies aside, I have a really big favour to ask.I've actually just started a fundraiser to go volunteer overseas instead of going on Schoolies this year to celebrate finishing school, and I'd really appreciate if you could please go check my campaign out and consider donating. The minimum donation's $10, but you don't have to create an account or sign up or anything to donate. There are even some incentives if you donate over certain amounts—they're nothing fancy but just little somethings to say thanks.

The link's in my profile, so please go have a look! Even if you could share the campaign with any friends you know who might be able to help, I'd be so eternally grateful. This project, including both volunteering and travelling, means so much to me and I desperately want to do it, but I just need some help with the funds. Counting today, I need $22 a day for the next 178 days to reach all the basics; any spending money and travel for leisure is coming out of my own pocket. More details on where and what I'll be doing are up on the link. Thank you a tonne! I appreciate it.

Love you all. Sorry for getting your hopes up for another chapter, but hopefully sometime soon. Stay safe.


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